


ambient gold

by scorpionGrass



Series: golden hour [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Ceremonial Duel, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass
Summary: Seto Kaiba has very few people in his world. Isis Ishtar has even fewer. There are better matches out there, but they don’t really care.
Relationships: Ishizu Ishtar/Kaiba Seto
Series: golden hour [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076489
Comments: 48
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [porcelainepeony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainepeony/gifts).



The Pharaoh leaves. The Millennium Items are sealed. Isis Ishtar’s role, the one she’d held so long as she breathed, ends.

And Seto Kaiba’s world breaks apart.

~

The R&D labs at KaibaCorp do not rest in the days after Seto Kaiba arrives back in Japan. He spends the flight back writing up a proposal to go further with their patented VR technology, planning out the worldwide expansion of Kaiba Land, and drafting up plans for a project he keeps hidden from everyone else.

When he touches down, jetlagged and exhausted, he heads straight for KaibaCorp HQ and hands the leads on all the teams their instructions for their next projects.

Then, when they all know what their tasks are, Seto Kaiba sits up high in his office. He watches the city’s streetlights turn on, sector by sector, as the sun sets over Domino City. A steaming mug of coffee sits on a coaster beside his laptop. He throws himself into his work and doesn’t stop till dawn.

~

Three weeks into his nonstop work, Seto Kaiba gets an email announcing that the new school year has started. His third and final year at Domino High. He deletes it and continues drafting code and responding to emails from various departments, micro-managing everything he possibly can.

Then, a day later, he gets another email.

His bloodshot eyes stare at the sender’s name, squinting to make sure he didn’t misread it, but it stays the same.  _ Isis Ishtar _ in bold font, sans serif, a complete change from the kanji that makes up the rest of the column. His is only one of the emails copied in on it, and he recognizes the emails of his brother, as well as Yugi and all of his friends. He scoffs before opening up her letter, written in irritatingly immaculate English, and reads through it exactly three times.

She attached a handful of images, taken from her mobile phone. According to her letter, she moved into an apartment in Cairo that overlooks where the Nile splits apart into the Mediterranean. It’s white sand and blue water and clear skies, like something straight from a postcard. Everything about the images screams “vacation,” except that this is her life now, without the Pharaoh in it.

And this is his. He closes the tab and gets back to work.

~

Weeks pass and Mokuba frets over him, his secretary voices concerns about his daily coffee intake, and even Isono asks if he’s been sleeping well lately.

Seto Kaiba has not been sleeping well at all. His dreams are nightmares, plagued with memories from his past life, of a Priest he doesn’t know and wants nothing to do with. Of a pale girl in possession of a powerful draconic soul that still couldn’t protect her. Of a Priestess he’d known in shadowed corners, who looks like the spitting image of Isis Ishtar.

The phone rings, loud and piercing, waking Seto up from where he’d passed out in bed the night before. At the very least he’s still awake when the sun is up, and asleep when the moon casts everything in its glow. It’s a semblance of normalcy that he refuses to give up even through the all-nighters.

Someone answers the phone. Then it’s redirected to his mobile phone.

He glares at it, the ringing all but giving him an outright migraine. Or maybe it’s all the blue light from his computer screen that he’s been subjecting himself to.

Finally, he snatches the device up and answers. “What?” he asks, voice hoarse from sleep and pissed off from being woken up.

“Seto Kaiba?”

He recognizes her voice, the soft tone that can command an entire room’s attention without raising a single decibel. He scowls. “Speaking,” he practically bites out. “What do you want, Isis?”

“I apologize, this sounds like a bad time,” she says.

Seto glances at the clock, the red LEDs that tell him it’s nearly four in the afternoon. “It’s not,” he says shortly.

“Oh, good,” she says. “I checked the time difference before I called to try and aim for a reasonable time. It’s currently nine in the morning here.”

Early, but he’s not surprised to find she’s a morning person. “That’s thoughtful of you,” he says wryly. “Did you call for something?” he asks, trying to move to conversation to end faster.

“Yes, actually.” She doesn’t expand, and Seto feels his patience thin during a long moment of silence.

“And that would be…?”

“Ah, sorry. I’m just gathering my thoughts. I didn’t expect you to answer so promptly, so I didn’t prepare properly.”

Seto’s lip curls. “So instead you waste my time. Can’t predict the future anymore?”

“I haven’t been able to since Battle City ended,” she says. “When I gave Yugi the Millennium Tauk. Though you’ve always been difficult to read.”

He doubts she means that.

“Do you remember the exhibit at the museum?” she asks. “It’s still there, all in boxes since the exhibit ended. I’ll be in Domino City soon to help organize their safe journey back to Egypt. I wanted to let you know.”

“And why would I need to know?”

“Because it might be the last time those tablets and artefacts can be seen by the public,” she explains. “I thought you might appreciate another look before they’re locked away.”

Seto Kaiba debates this as he sits up in bed, pressing his back against the headboard and blinking the last of the sleep from his eyes. The tablets he saw before Battle City. The God card she’d handed to him with full trust in that he’d hand it back to her, at the end of everything. Does he really want to go back to the start of everything that plagues him?

It’s not an easy question to answer. Not with all that’s happened. Not with his rival in a place Seto can’t reach.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Then, I’ll call again when I’m in Domino City.”

“You do that.”

~

Desert sands and half-built pyramids become a recurring feature in his dreams, so much so that Seto starts setting alarms every couple hours to make sure the nightmarish events in them never make him wake up in a sweat ever again. The things he remembers from being trapped in that hallucination are things he wants to keep buried in his memories, refusing to let them be dragged back out.

Seto Kaiba is not weak.

If he was weak, would he have been able to kill his adoptive father? Survive Noa’s pathetic trials? Completely rebrand KaibaCorp from opportunistic weapons manufacturer to world-wide games company and crush all of his competition in the petty corporate world?

He’s done too much to be done in now by dreams of Isis Ishtar’s hocus pocus nonsense.

The alarm blares through his office and he turns it off, continuing to type code into his laptop. It goes off again in another couple of hours, and he turns it off as he’s brushing his teeth. Every couple of hours, to make sure he’s alert and won’t hit REM sleep for longer than he needs to. Longer than what’s necessary to function at an adequate capacity to deal with all the bullshit that comes from boardroom talks and public events and hours listening to incompetent scientists explain to him that his vision for KaibaCorp is too advanced for where the current technology sits.

Seto Kaiba doesn’t need his supposed past life to interfere with his plans for the future he’s building with his own hands.

~

The phone at his desk rings and it is not his alarm.

“There’s an Isis Ishtar on the line for you,” his secretary tells him.

As if this week could get any worse. Seto frowns. “Patch her through.”

It takes a moment, but soon her voice floats through the receiver, as soft and sure as always. “Seto Kaiba, I’m glad you picked up.”

“And why would that be?”

She sighs. It’s soft, just like everything else she spews out of her mouth. “Well, I’ve arrived in Domino City,” she starts. “I took a plane for the first time in my life and the entire experience has been… a trial. To be honest, I almost prefer your blimp.”

“Probably because you flew coach, while all finalists in my tournament got the VIP treatment.” Even that useless mutt had gotten his own fully serviced room. “What’s your point?”

Another sigh. “My luggage got lost,” she says, “and the people I was supposed to meet are not here to pick me up. I was hoping you could spare me some help to sort things out.”

It makes sense to call him. The one with the power, money, and influence that can get things done with a snap of his fingers. Seto Kaiba has already been jaded by the sheer number of people who like to include themselves in his circle, as if he gives a shit about them beyond their forced interactions.

“So you called a CEO to deal with this for you,” he says more than asks.

“Seto, I--”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. She’s the only one who talks to him so familiarly, and he puts it down to their cultural differences, but he doesn’t want to hear an excuse.

“Just tell me why you thought calling me specifically was a good idea.”

There’s such a long pause that Seto almost thought she’d hung up on him, but the bustle of the airport that streams through the receiver in patchy white noise tells him otherwise. When she finally speaks again, her soft-spoken and commanding voice is quiet in a new way he doesn’t recognize.

“I can count the people I’m close with outside of Malik and Rishid on one hand,” she admits. “Living most of my life in an underground complex, you might understand I have few friends beyond my brothers. I promise you, I’m asking as a friend, not an opportunistic grifter.”

“You consider me a friend?” he asks dryly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Memories that aren’t his resurface from his dreams, edging into his mind in ways Seto Kaiba does not want them to. His past life has nothing to do with him, and nothing to do with her either. And yet, they had been friends (and much more).

“It doesn’t matter,” Seto says.

“I apologize for assuming I could call upon you, or that you would be up for continuing any kind of relationship outside of my business with the Pharaoh and the God cards,” Isis says after a moment. “If you wish for me not to, I can figure it out myself--”

“It’s fine.”

Isis pauses, and there’s silence until she says, “You’re sure?”

Seto scowls. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll clear my schedule and pick you up myself.”

~

The drive to the airport is longer than Seto would have liked. Isono drives and Seto sits in the back seat, ignoring how heavy his eyelids feel halfway through the workday and trying to respond to emails without making typos. He’s tired, bone tired, but he can’t stop yet. If he stops, it’ll come back; the loss of the Pharaoh and his past life are not things he wants to think about, to deal with, to process.

The airport is busy when they get there, and Isono drives around the parking lot three times before giving up and dropping Seto off at the arrivals.

Recognition parts most of the locals, allowing him easy passage through the crowds amongst whispers about him and who he could be here for. Seto ignores them all, focused on searching the area. It’s not long before he finds Isis Ishtar, her dark skin standing out in the crowds of Japanese passengers. She sits alone at a coffee shop, cradling a paper cup between her hands.

“Isis,” he acknowledges as he sits across from her at the table.

She looks up from her coffee, a smile touching her lips. “Seto, you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

Seto watches the barista look up at Isis using such a familiar way of addressing him, but he’s not bothered. He’s used to the rumour mill and the media, and one meeting with a finalist from his tournament isn’t going to affect his reputation.

“Have they given you any information on your luggage?” he asks, straight to the point.

“Absolutely nothing,” Isis says, taking a sip from her cup. “They told me to wait.”

“And the people you were expecting?”

“They let me know they wouldn’t be able to pick me up about an hour ago.”

Her hands are shaking, but he can only tell from the way her gold bangles clink together on her wrists. She looks comfortable and in control, wearing civilian clothes for once in her life with a denim jacket and a t-shirt tucked into an ankle-length skirt, but it’s not hard to see that she’s struggling to keep that control.

“How long do they expect you to sit here waiting on your luggage?”

“I… don’t know.”

Her voice wavers. Seto realizes it’s the first time he’s ever heard her say that, but can’t find it in himself to be smug about it when she sounds so pathetic.

“Who did you talk to?”

“An attendant. She was standing by the carousels,” Isis recalls. “That was about three hours ago.”

Seto’s never had this problem before, but he figures if he can talk to the airline they’ll probably have more specific answers for them. He’s not about to waste more time.

“Get up. We’re resolving this right now.”

There’s a simple solution according to the lady they end up talking to, and it involves Isis giving the airline her hotel details. They let her know her luggage will be coming into Domino City on another flight within the day, and that they can deliver it straight to her hotel room at no extra cost.

It’s such a simple solution that Seto Kaiba wonders how Isis Ishtar, a fully capable woman who has seen herself through much tougher situations, couldn’t have figured it out by herself. But another glance at her, and he doesn’t see the irritatingly confident woman he’d met at the museum that day so long ago.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks when they exit the automatic doors to the parking lot.

She blinks out of whatever reverie had taken her, spine straightening as she looks up at him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

Seto scoffs. “You’re not you,” he says, pulling out his mobile to let Isono know they’re done.

Soon, they’re both in the car. Isis doesn’t ask again, and Seto provides no answers.

The ride to her hotel is silent.

~

There’s no logical reason he should, but Seto Kaiba uses his name and his money to secure her an upgraded room and puts all room service charges to his personal card. Isis says nothing as he takes over at the front desk, channeling his frustration at her into his credit card.

Finally, as he jams his thumb into the elevator call button, Isis sighs again. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“No, I didn’t,” he agrees. “How long are you staying in Domino City?”

“It’s an open ticket. I’ll leave when everything at the museum is sorted.” Her hand comes up to touch her collarbone, where there’s nothing but skin. “You don’t have to pay for my stay, I have more than enough and I’d rather not be indebted to you.”

The elevator doors open and Isis steps in. Seto follows.

“You also don’t have to come up with me,” she adds. “I don’t want to keep you away from your work any longer than I have.”

“It’s too late for that.”

The doors shut and Isis presses the button for her floor. “Thank you for your help today. I apologize for being a burden.”

He grits his teeth. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

Everything she says grates on Seto more and more. In Battle City, she’d asked for nothing but a tournament, and he’d given it to her to advance his own self-interests. Today, nothing benefits him, but he’s still here because it’s almost better than being alone in his office, staving off sleep and cursed dreams.

“Stop acting like you’re some damsel in distress,” he says finally. “You’re not like this.”

Isis avoids his gaze, staring at the LEDs above the elevator doors that denote the floors as they climb higher. “You’re right,” she says. “I never used to be like this. I used to be sure of everything, I knew where I was going and what to do in every situation.”

The doors open again and she steps out. Seto, again, follows. Her room is at the very end of the hall, taking up the corner unit, and Isis stops in front of the door, keycard clutched in her hand as she stares at the room number.

Then, she turns to him with a regretful expression he’s seen in his dreams. “This is who I am without the Millennium Tauk, Seto.”

He has nothing to say to that. To the powers of foresight she claimed to hold because of a bit of gold that laid around her neck. The powers that failed to predict his victory over her in the quarterfinals of Battle City. The powers he’d never put much stock in.

“If you want to blame it on a piece of jewelry, I won’t stop you,” he sneers. “But I’ve heard better bullshit from Wheeler.”

She licks her lips before pressing them together. “Then I won’t explain myself further. I’ve already shown you everything I can to convince you of your heritage, there’s no need to rehash the facts you refuse to see.”

Except Seto does see them, every time he sleeps. He sees her with her golden headdress and cream gown from the eyes of his past self. He feels the sun of the Egyptian desert burning his skin. He feels the searing heat when he kisses her behind pillars and stone walls that hide them from the world.

He can’t tell the difference between memory and fantasy, his subconscious refusing to delineate them in a way that makes sense.

Isis slots her keycard into the door and enters her room, lips parting to say something else that never comes because he’s closing the careful distance they’ve kept since the airport.

The door clicks shut behind them.

~

When Seto wakes up, it’s not because of a dream or an alarm. Sun streaks across his face, blurring his vision when he opens his eyes. He feels rested, something he hasn’t been in the months since the Pharaoh’s spirit left for the afterlife.

The doors closed, throwing the tomb into a pitch-black darkness that Seto couldn’t breath in. Like he’d lost a part of himself, like his lungs had been filled with sand.

But now he can breath again.

Seto sits up in a bed that’s not his, a frown marring his features with confusion.

“You’re awake,” Isis says, her voice soft. He looks over to the desk by the window, where she sits with a clipboard full of paperwork. “I got you room service. Since you’re paying for it, you might as well enjoy it too. Don’t worry, no one saw you here.”

He looks toward the foot of the bed, where a trolley sits with plates piled with food. “I fell asleep?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I called Isono using your phone to let him know you’d be staying awhile,” she explains. “Have you been sleeping?”

“... No.”

Isis still hasn’t looked at him, focusing on paperwork Seto assumes is from the museum. “Then it’s good you got some in. Sleeping has been difficult for me, too.”

She doesn’t say anything more, but somehow Seto knows her problems have to do with the Pharaoh’s absence too. Just like him. He watches her for a long moment, picking out the marks he’d left on her. They stand out in the sunlight, dark against her already dark skin, and he wonders if they’re why she hasn’t looked him in the eye yet.

Her hand flourishes over the paper with her signature before she flips to the next page, and the page after that, meticulously reading through every word, crossing out clauses and making notes in the margins.

Seto tears his eyes away from her and looks around the room, at the upgraded suite he’d gotten her. His jacket is laid out on the ottoman in the corner. The fireplace burns bright with blue-tipped flames. The sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

When they’d gotten here, it’d been closing in on dinner time.

He finally moves to see what exactly she ordered with his money, finding plates of French toast and fruit. Breakfast, like it’s morning. Seto grabs his phone from the side table, the date reflecting back at him. He’d slept a full night without nightmares about Ancient Egypt.

The realization sets in, and Seto glances back at Isis, who’s still focused on her work.

“Did you sleep?” he asks.

Isis shakes her head. “Jetlag kept me up.”

Seto Kaiba is sleep-addled, not stupid. “It’s not just that.”

“It’s not,” she agrees. The page she’s on gets another signature before she puts the clipboard down. “You called me Aset.”


	2. Chapter 2

Isis Ishtar has lived with certainty for as long as she can remember. The Millennium Tauk she was given as a child gave her purpose, a path forward into the future where she stayed sure and on track to something much brighter than the underground complex she lived in.

And then she’d willingly given it up, allowing it to be sealed away in the Pharaoh’s tomb with the rest of the Millennium Items.

She’d been without it for some time at that point, but as the Pharaoh entered the afterlife and the doors closed behind him, the remnants of her foresight left for good, leaving her in darkness with no path, no answers, and a freedom that soon felt like a curse.

Isis Ishtar had done her job, the job her clan of Tomb Keepers had raised her for, and she’d done it perfectly.

But now, there’s nothing left.

~

When Seto Kaiba kisses Isis Ishtar, it’s unexpected and predictable all at once.

Unexpected, because Isis has never been able to read him, not with the Millennium Tauk and not now. Predictable, because of course he’d find such an urge in the middle of an argument they’ve had dozens of times before.

He pulls away, their faces so close she can feel his hot breath on her lips. “Seto--”

“Shut up.”

He looks equally shocked and conflicted, fingers grasping her shoulders tightly as he breathes hard. Then, he kisses her again with a fervent kind of urgency neither of them understand. Isis leans into it this time, driven solely by the desire to drown out the anxiety that’s been trailing her since her role as a Tomb Keeper ended.

Seto’s hands hook into her denim jacket, dragging it off her shoulders and down her arms, and Isis lets it fall to the floor as he presses her against the wall. His hands skim her sides, sending shivers up her spine. There’s a desperation to his actions and Isis follows along the push and pull. Her fingers slide into his hair. Her legs wrap around his waist. A heat burns inside her, prompted by Seto’s intense blue gaze when their lips part, foreheads touching as their breath mingles between them.

“Aset,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along her jaw before letting his lips brush across her collarbone.

Adrenaline floods Isis’ veins at the name. She gasps as his teeth graze over where her neck and shoulder meet, his hands coming to grip her thighs so hard she can feel the bite of his nails through the chiffon of her skirt.

The pressure against the wall fades away as Seto carries her to the bed, setting her down at the edge. The sheets are so plush that Isis sinks into them. It’s now, when she’s craning her head up to look at him, that she remembers how tall he is. She’s always looked up at him, but now it’s doubled as he practically has to curl over her.

Seto caresses her face, thumb smoothing over her cheek, and pauses. Isis feels her stomach twist in anticipation, but she doesn’t know what she’s waiting for. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and Seto’s eyes echo that same fear of the unknown.

When their lips come together again, it’s slow and hesitant, and Isis believes that whatever comes next is something she wants too.

~

In the days following her encounter with Seto Kaiba, Isis Ishtar does her best to focus on her work at the museum. They didn’t expect her in so soon after her flight, but the restlessness he’d stirred in her was to blame. She has artefacts to store and sign off on, staff to congratulate for a good exhibit run, transportation to organize. There is so much to do, and it keeps her mind off of the phantom feeling on her lips, the marks left on her neck that she covers with high necklines and carefully arranged hair.

No one notices, or maybe no one asks. Either way, she’s lucky she can get back to work without fanfare, busying herself so that her anxieties can’t catch up with her.

But when she returns to her hotel room today, late at night, she remembers exactly how they’d left it. Once Seto had fallen asleep from the bone-deep exhaustion that she’d seen in the dark blue bruises under his eyes, once her heart stopped rattling in her chest, she’d taken a look around.

Their shoes lay overturned by the door, her jacket and t-shirt were on the floor, Seto’s jacket had been thrown carelessly over the ottoman. Her bare feet froze in the cold room and she switched on the fireplace, letting it warm her fingers and toes. 

As she curled her knees to her chest and watched the flames dance in the grate, Isis wondered what brought it on; the passion she’d only seen from him when he was dueling.

Not that she was complaining; it had all been a welcome distraction from her newfound anxiety without the Tauk securely around her neck. But she was sure there’s a reason for it, something she wasn’t seeing because she can’t see further than her own two feet anymore.

Then Isis thought over the events of the night and realized something: he’d called her by the name of her past self, the Priestess who’d once stood by him.

When Isis steps into her hotel room again after a long day of work at the museum, she thinks of the name again. It was also the Ancient Egyptian name for the goddess Isis, before she’d been renamed and popularized by the Romans, the name Seto Kaiba somehow knew and can no longer remember.

Her mobile is still in her purse, and she fights the urge to call him as she has every night since, to ask for answers she doesn’t have at her fingertips. To bother him at work when she’s already bothered him enough. But as she’s picking up the hotel line, ready to order room service for dinner and relax for the night after hours of lifting boxes, checking inventory, and signing endless forms, her mobile rings.

Hope shoots Isis across the room, rummaging through her bag to answer.

“Hello?”

“Isis.” There’s no question, only certainty, in Seto Kaiba’s voice. “Where are you?”

She sits on the ottoman, crossing her ankles, pretending her heart isn’t exploding out of her chest. “At the hotel. Why do you ask?”

“Stay there.”

Then, he hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun facts: the makeout scene took me two days to write bc i suck at intimate scenes. it was like trying to draw blood from a stone. honestly, it was probably the hardest part of this entire fic to write.
> 
> luckily, rihanna's music seemed to help the process.


	3. Chapter 3

Isis Ishtar is no replacement for what Seto Kaiba has lost, and yet he finds himself thinking about her as the days pass. About the museum exhibit she’s currently tearing down and packing away, and the tablet with his supposed past self inscribed on it. About the sounds she made in the dark.

Something inside himself, his soul if he truly believes in such things, had calmed down that day.

The Pharaoh became a distant memory, their rivalry a thing of the past for the hours he’d rested, unburdened, for the first time in months.

When he arrived home that day, Mokuba had been beside himself with worry, talking about how Seto had disappeared for hours with no communication in the middle of a work day without a single message to say he was okay. Seto assumed Isono had filled him in, but alas Isono took his oath of privacy to the grave even in this.

So Seto told him that Isis Ishtar was in town, and Mokuba’s concerned frown transformed into a sly grin.

“Oh, Isis, huh?” he asked, before whistling. “Okay. I guess I forgive you.”

And that had been the end of that.

~

At work, Seto’s secretary has a full list of things he missed and of meetings she has rescheduled on his behalf. He’d only taken a half-day off, but the crunch of his schedule, meeting after meeting with stakeholders, project teams, and event managers, is nonstop. He’s lucky he slept so well, because otherwise he’d be getting through today with sheer determination.

But the rest only lasts him so long, and his vivid lucid dreams of burning sand, destructive tablets, and the lips of a Priestess don’t go away.

Seto’s first thought is to go back to Isis Ishtar, the only person he can attribute to solving the issue in the first place. But that would mean seeing her again, dealing with all the conflicting bullshit of the magic that she claims exists, and that he feels in the air.

He does not contact her.

Instead, Seto goes back to his alarms, sleeping just enough to survive his days and drinking coffee and energy drinks before every meeting and phone call.

The haze of clouded thoughts and heavy eyelids comes back, but Seto is so used to it at this point that he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about his bloodshot eyes or the bags underneath them that have gotten so bad they might as well be bruises.

He’s not oblivious. Seto has seen the headlines that Mokuba keeps up with, the reporters opinions and paparazzi photos of his current condition, along with all of the rumours of what could be ailing him. So far, there’s been nothing about his accidental stay at the hotel, nothing about picking up Isis Ishtar from the airport save for a short updates column that mentioned he’d been seen with a quarterfinalist at a coffee shop. Hardly newsworthy content.

“Are you okay, Seto?” Mokuba asks over breakfast one day.

Seto’s eyes slide over from his mug of coffee to his brother, who looks sincerely worried. “I’m fine.”

“Fine is code for not fine,” he informs him. “What’s up? Is work getting stressful?”

He’s not exactly sure how to tell Mokuba it’s not work. That it’s actually his dreams, that everything they saw in Egypt is haunting him now that the Pharaoh is gone for good. That he’s been pining over a rivalry with a dead man and he doesn’t know what to do anymore other than work.

“Work is fine, Mokuba.”

“You said ‘fine’ again.”

Seto sighs. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is going as well as it can be.”

Mokuba tilts his head at him. “Okay, then did you get punched in the face?”

“I did not get punched in the face.”

“Okay. Good.”

~

That night, Seto Kaiba dreams before his alarm can stop him. He’s in his office, poring over some referrals to decide who should be put on the new VR sub-team, when sleep takes him. It’s not late, not any later than he normally stays at the office at any rate, but sleep claims him, dragging him into Ancient Egypt and the violence he’d been manipulated into in his past life.

Seto wakes up in a sweat, breath ragged and eyes wild as he grips the edge of his desk and grounds himself back into reality.

These were the memories he’d pushed down and wanted to burn. When his mind had been taken over and he’d been forced to commit atrocities he never wanted to remember. That hadn’t been him, but someone else, regardless of the stories Isis spouted about reincarnation.

_ Isis. _

He grabs his phone and dials the number she’d given him, the one he’d told himself he wouldn’t call. She answers too slowly for his urgency, but when she picks up he’s nothing but relieved.

“Hello?”

“Isis. Where are you?”

“At the hotel. Why do you ask?”

“Stay there.”

~

The drive to her hotel isn’t nearly as long as the drive to the airport had been, and Seto is thankful for small blessings. His heart still pounds, the scenes from his nightmares following him from his office to the car, where Isono waits for him.

Isono drops him off at the back entrance, and Seto takes the stairs from there, not wishing to run into anyone at this time of the night. When he finally makes it to Isis’ floor, he takes a moment to gather himself, to push the nightmares away in an attempt to look calm instead of panicked, together instead of falling apart. Then, he knocks.

When Isis Ishtar opens her hotel room door, she’s wearing nothing but a black silk slip that stops mid-calf. The sight is enough to make Seto swallow hard and almost forget about the reason he’s here, too busy drinking in her figure.

“Seto, welcome,” she says, standing aside to let him in. “I ordered room service and got two because I didn’t know if you’d eaten already.”

His throat feels parched after all those stairs. “I haven’t.”

“Good.” She smiles softly. “It arrived just before you did.”

Seto looks around the room, spotting the same trolley that had been there last time. This time, there are two plates of pasta and two cans of beer. He’d never taken Isis for a beer kind of person, but then again he’s never thought about her so much until now.

“Are you alright?” Isis asks as she takes one of the plates and sits at the desk. “You seem… out of sorts.”

Kaiba’s eyes connect with hers as he stands in front of the trolley. Perhaps they say everything she needs to know, or they say nothing at all. He doesn’t want to talk about it, he just wants to forget about it and move on with his life. His hands shake at his sides and he grips them into fists.

“I’m fine,” he says.

She tilts her head, examining him for a moment. “Okay,” she says, unlike his brother who would have at least pushed back. She cracks open her can of beer and takes a long sip.

Seto does not watch the way her throat bobs, the marks he’d left on her in full view. “How was your day?” he asks, stilted and awkward, and she has the gall to look amused.

“Do you truly wish to hear about the minutiae of life at the museum?”

He pulls the trolley toward the bed and sits down, using it as a table. “Not really.” He just wants the silence to fill up with something, for the nightmares that clutch at him in his waking hours to let go.

“I hate the silence too,” she says, reading his mind. But Seto has never believed that, and she no longer has the Tauk. “My day was quite busy taking inventory of the exhibit and signing so many insurance claims for every item that my signature became completely illegible.”

Seto knows that feeling, his signature devolving into less-than-legible scrawl by the end of the day on many occasions. He picks at his plate, falling into thoughts about work and how far behind he is.

“If I may ask, what brings you here tonight?” Isis asks.

His eyes flicker up to hers momentarily before dropping back down. He’s not good at this, and it’s frustrating because he’s good at everything he needs to be good at, except this.

“Nightmares,” Seto mutters.

Concern lines her face. “Nightmares?” she prompts.

Instead of answering, he stares at the unopened can of beer. “I can’t drink this.”

“I know. They’re for me.”

Of course she knows. He cracks it open anyway, the condensation cooling his sweaty palms. It tastes like battery acid, bitter and metallic when he gulps it down. “They’re about Egypt,” he offers after he’s downed half the can.

“Oh. I see.”

Seto’s not sure how much she’s ever seen.

Isis stands, moving to sit next to him on the bed and leaving her plate half-finished. Even inches away he can feel her warmth and the weight of her beside him. Seto goes to drink the rest of the beer, but her hand gently takes it from him, fingers brushing against his.

“That’s not the answer,” she says, softer than ever.

“No,” he agrees, turning to her. “I think you are.”

Her violet eyes snap to his, with curiosity and something else. She’s so close, close enough for him to kiss her again. Seto’s almost desperate enough to try.

When Isis speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “Why do you say that?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol muddling his mind, or maybe he’s really at the point of no return, but when Seto leans in, he could swear she meets him halfway.

~

Nights he spends with Isis Ishtar are the only nights Seto Kaiba doesn’t dream. Their days are full of work, and their nights are full of each other, and Seto has never slept so well. Mokuba worries about him less, his secretary is glad he’s laying off the caffeine, and things are going better than they have in months.

And Isis doesn’t seem to mind his consistent presence, as desperate to rid herself of her anxieties as he is to rid himself of his nightmares.

It works for them, and that’s all that matters.

(But it can’t last.)

“Seto, I’ve been thinking,” Isis says one night, when they’re in bed. She’s curled against him, warm and soft.

“What about?”

“My work at the museum is almost done,” she says, “and my plane ticket… it’s open.”

“So you’ve told me.”

She sighs, biting her lip. “Seto, I have to leave at some point.”

Seto remembers the email from all those months ago, the apartment set against the Nile, the idyllic life she has on the Mediterannean with her brothers that she no doubt wants to get back to. “Don’t go.”

“And stay living in a hotel?”

“I’ll buy the hotel.”

Isis pulls away from him, leaving him cold as she sits up against the headboard. “That’s not it,” she says. “I can’t just live here.”

“Then I’ll get you an apartment.”

She shakes her head, inky strands of hair falling over her shoulders as she brings her knees up to her chest, hugging them against her. “No.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Seto asks, feeling his irritation spike. He doesn’t want to go back to barely living, going through days in a haze of exhaustion and worrying everyone around him. “Just tell me and I can get it for you.”

Isis sighs, the sound wavering. “That’s not it. I can’t keep running away from my problems, and you can’t expect me to be around all the time to serve your needs. You can’t just throw money at me.”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“What else could it be?” she asks. “Nothing about this is sustainable.”

“But it’s working,” Seto argues. “Why not stay?”

“You’re not the Pharaoh,” she says, unaware of how it pierces him, how of course Seto comes in second when he’s not even around to witness it or care. “I swore no oath to you, I have no duty to you, and I have a life beyond you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, underage drinking and questionable choices. seto kaiba is really doing the most under the influence of stress and desperation.


	4. Chapter 4

Isis does not see Seto Kaiba in the days following their argument. It’s both a relief and a source of stress, but there’s hardly any work left at the museum for her to throw herself into. Instead, she sits in her office drinking copious amounts of calming tea and asking all of the employees who’d been part of the Egyptian exhibit whether they need assistance with their own tasks.

She knows therapy would help, but she doesn’t want to explain her past, her powers and subsequent disappearance of them, to someone who could send her to an asylum. Isis knows she’s not crazy, that this is how everyone lives. She knows she doesn’t need to know the future to move forward into it.

It’s so hard.

When she’s back in her hotel room for the night, exhausted and upset, she calls her brothers. She doesn’t know what time it is there, not looking it up before she dials. To her relief, Malik answers.

“Isis?”

“Malik, you don’t know how glad I am to hear your voice.”

He laughs. “It’s barely been a month, you’ve left home for longer without feeling homesick, sister.”

She smiles. “Yes, though I believe home was never so comfortable before,” she says. “How are you and Rishid?”

Malik happily regales her with stories about life outside of their underground complex, without duties or restrictions or the burden of their shared past. Rishid found a job as a translator, and Malik met a cute girl at the supermarket. Their home is spotless, he assures her, though Isis doubts it, and they can’t wait to hear all about how Japan is treating her.

“Well enough,” Isis says. “My work at the museum is almost done. I should be packing for my return any day now.”

“Anything interesting happen? How are Yugi and the others?”

“They’re doing well,” she answers, remembering the day he and his friends showed up on the museum’s doorstep. They’d been happy to see her, congratulating her on the apartment and taking her out during her lunch break for sushi, and Isis tells Malik all about it.

Apparently Yugi had wanted to see the tablets one last time.

“Don’t worry,” Isis had told him, when they had a moment to themselves. “You’re surrounded by friends and family who love you. You’re not alone.”

She wished she had that same supportive circle around her.

“Yugi asked about you,” Isis tells her brother. “He hopes you’re doing well too. And Anzu gave me some Japanese snacks and candy to bring back for you. I told them they’re welcome to visit and stay with us one day.”

“Oh, that would be so much fun,” Malik says. “We could show them all the sights! After all, we live so close to the pyramids now, and there’s so much to see.”

“I’ll leave the itinerary to you, then.”

“But what about you, sister? How are you?”

Isis had been hoping to avoid that particular subject. For all her attempts at hiding her anxiety from her brothers, they’d seen through her almost immediately. “I’m doing better, though I can’t say for how long that will last.”

“It’ll be alright. Soon you’ll be back home and you’ll have us to help you again.”

She debates telling him about Seto Kaiba, the temporary comfort she’d found in him. The illicit relationship they’d started that never went anywhere beyond her hotel room and might be over for good. Instead, she just agrees. “Yes, I look forward to coming back home.”

~

Isis Ishtar spends her day at the museum thinking about how ridiculous it would be to stay in Japan for the sole purpose of being Seto Kaiba’s personal call girl, and how utterly self-absorbed he is for asking.

It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that what Seto wanted wasn’t a permanent solution to either of their issues, and she’s spent most of the morning lethargic and pensive over the entire thing. There is so little to do now at the museum that she’s done nothing but play Solitaire on her laptop for the last hour just to keep busy while she waits for her lunch break to officially start.

“Miss Ishtar? There’s a boy asking for you in the lobby.”

Isis looks up from her laptop. “Coming,” she lets her assistant know, before abandoning her current game of Solitaire, wondering if the timer will keep going even if her laptop is asleep.

The museum’s lobby is large and mostly empty, with grand vaulted ceilings painted with famous historical works. Every sound echoes, and she often comes after closing just to sit and relax, surrounded by the beauty of it all. When she reaches it, she heads for the welcome desk.

“I was told someone asked for me?”

“Yes, they’re waiting outside.”

So Isis heads out, toward the steps. It’s a bright, sunny day. Warm and humid, but not nearly as much as she’s used to. Again, that pang of homesickness hits her.

“Isis!”

She looks to the side to see a familiar face leaning against one of the columns. “Yugi, what brings you here?”

He smiles sheepishly. “I wanted to talk to you. Without the others around.”

She’d suspected as much, not that she minds. He provides a welcome reprieve from playing Solitaire and thinking about Seto Kaiba, and she’s happy to help. “Would you like to join me for lunch? My break starts soon, and that will give us plenty of time to discuss what’s on your mind.”

“Yeah! Of course. I know a decent curry place around here, if you want?”

“That sounds lovely. Please, lead the way.”

As suspected, Yugi wants to talk about the Pharaoh, about life without him and how he feels alone even when he’s surrounded by his friends. As he tries to articulate the feeling of loss and the times he finds himself talking to himself with no response, Isis thinks back to the ceremonial duel.

It feels so long ago, or maybe that’s just how time feels when she’s left with a similar kind of loneliness. A lack of purpose that brought her back down to reality, to the everyday life that’s so normal to everyone who hadn’t been touched by the Millennium Items. A life she can’t get used to no matter how many months pass.

“Sorry,” Yugi says. “I don’t know if anything I’m saying makes any sense.”

Isis smiles assuringly. “I understand what you’re going through. I may not have had the same relationship you shared, but I do know the feeling of loss. Of wondering what’s next and how you might deal with it without something that’s been a part of you for so long.”

Yugi stares at his hands, lifting them to the empty spot where the Millennium Puzzle used to hang. “Will I ever feel normal?”

Isis wishes she had the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seto kaiba's sheer Audacity


	5. Chapter 5

Seto Kaiba stands outside of the museum with narrowed eyes and a massive headache. The sun is too bright, the air is too humid, and he’s not in the mood to deal with this. And yet he’s here anyway.

The girl at the front desk informs him that Isis Ishtar has gone out to lunch and won’t be back for another twenty minutes at least. That just worsens his mood. Seto debates the merits of sticking around versus coming back another time, but another time could be too late and nothing about any of this was the best idea anyway. But sue him for being a sleep-deprived wreck. After all, he could afford the loss.

Just as he’s about to leave, the girl’s eyebrows raise as she scans something on her computer.

“Oh, actually Mr. Kaiba, you’re on the list.”

List? “What list?”

“Invited guests,” the girl informs him. “Miss Ishtar gave us a list of individuals who are allowed into the exhibit despite it being closed. You can wait there for her, if you’d like.”

Seto is then led to the roped-off exhibit, where many of the glass cases are covered in clothes and large boxes are stacked against the walls, ready to be shipped back to Egypt. But the two stone tablets are still in their cases, still spotlighted in the centre of the back wall, half covered by sheets.

The attendant leaves him there, alone. The room is silent, but it doesn’t help his headache. Instead it just makes the pulse beating in his head that much louder.

The tablets stare back at him, and Seto finds his feet moving toward them, his hands ripping down the sheet covering the hieroglyphics. He remembers Isis’ words, echoed in the Pharaoh’s speech about how they’re destined to be rivals, to duel with all their hearts in every reincarnation.

Seto doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at the images, trying to reconcile his supposed destiny with his lack of closure, the slew of duels he’d lost despite gaining more power, more technology at his disposal all made for the sole purpose of facing him.

It’s unfair, but his whole life has been that way. He doesn’t know why he thought this would be different.

He’s about to turn around, ready to walk out and leave all of this behind him, when he comes face to face with Isis Ishtar.

“Seto?”

She looks radiant, in a black dress and gold jewelry. Though she still hasn’t replaced the Tauk around her neck, leaving it bare like she has since he saw her at the airport that day so long ago now.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, coming to his side.

“Apparently I’m on the list,” he says.

“That’s right, I…” Isis doesn’t look at him, eyes darting to the ground. “I asked the staff here to let you in, in case you wanted to see the--”

“I know.”

Isis bites her lip, her brow furrowing. “What do you want?” she asks softly.

It’s not an easy question to answer, but nothing worth anything is easy. Seto sighs, bringing a hand up to his temple where his headache still pounds. “I need you,” he forces out.

“A CEO? Needing someone like me?” She shakes her head. “What about your nightmares is so bad that you’d become so desperate for me to stay?”

It’s a fair question, but Seto still feels cornered. Desperation, or maybe it was fear. Denial, because regardless of whether he believes in their shared past lives, it should have nothing to do with him now. “What do you know about what happened five thousand years ago?”

Isis examines him for a moment, her violet eyes more curious than calculating. “You called me Aset.”

“I already told you, I don’t remember--”

“It was my name,” Isis interrupts. “In my past life as a Priestess.” At this, she looks up to the tablet, to the Priest and the Pharaoh. “Your dreams aren’t just dreams, are they? They’re memories.”

She says it like it’s something that’s been weighing heavily on her, like she’s thought about it, and Seto can’t help but be irritated. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would you really have listened?” she counters.

Seto scoffs. “Because everything always circles back with you.”

“Apparently it does for you too,” she says, then sighs. “Five thousand years ago, you were a Priest. You weren’t raised in the Pharaoh’s court, but you grew through the ranks quickly enough to end up there. And we met.”

“So what?” he bites.

“If you don’t want to hear it, then don’t ask the question,” Isis bites back, her voice echoing in the near-empty exhibit. “If you keep pushing it down, keep denying what even your dreams are telling you, then you’ll never get over it. It’ll haunt you. So forgive me if I don’t understand why you need me.”

Seto grits his teeth. “I don’t need a lecture, I need a cure--”

“I’m sorry then, because the only cure that’ll last longer than a night is acceptance, and since you’re incapable of that, you can leave.”

Silence falls over them, thick and uncomfortable as Isis all but outright glares at him. Seto’s headache pounds louder, and it takes several moments to gather up his thoughts. When he finally has them in order, he asks:

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Isis snaps.

“Your anxiety.”

She laughs, a sardonic huff. “Yes, because the only reason you’d ever actually care about me is to further your own self-interests,” she says. “I don’t need you to calm my anxiety, I need a drink and a therapist.”

Then, she turns on her heel. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, or you can see yourself out.”

~

Isis Ishtar doesn’t actually expect Seto Kaiba to come by her office, running after her. His pride has always gotten in the way, his sturdy belief that science is the only measurement of anything real. But twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at her office door. She doesn’t expect it to be him. Her assistant, or one of the movers, perhaps.

“Come in,” she says, minimizing her game of Solitaire.

Somehow, against all logic, it’s Seto Kaiba who opens the door. She narrows her eyes at him as he takes the seat in front of her desk, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers. Like it’s his office, and she’s the guest.

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. “What can I help you with?” she asks, overly polite.

“Tell me about my past. All of it,” he says. “I won’t interrupt.”

Isis stares at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?”

As usual, it’s hard for him to say. She doesn’t need the Millennium Tauk to know he’s fighting himself, fighting off the denial and actually trying to be open-minded. Finally, “Because how am I supposed to accept my past if I only know parts of it?”

It’s sound logic, and she can’t argue that. “Then you have to promise not to say a single word. I have very little patience today.”

“I promise.”

Isis watches him for another moment, then nods. “Fine.”

She starts at the beginning, where all stories start, and doesn’t miss a single detail. His heritage, his role in the Pharaoh’s court, the romance they’d hidden from everyone else, the girl with the draconic Ka who’d been enslaved by his father… Isis tells him everything she knows, everything about the way his father had manipulated him, what he’d done under his influence. Seto’s jaw clenches at those parts, visibly conflicted, and she understands why. Priest Set’s father had been nothing but opportunistic, and he had been against everything that man had stood for.

Night falls as she recounts their lives. At points, he asks questions. Clarification. What Aset had thought about everything, her opinions. Isis responds to every question in detail, and provides as much context as she can.

Finally, Seto stands. “If this doesn’t work--”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Isis asks. “I’ve told you all of the facts. It’s up to you to see them for what they are. I can’t help you anymore than this.”

He hesitates at the door, and Isis watches him struggle with his own thoughts. “Why did being with you help so much?”

“Your soul remembers us as we were five thousand years ago,” she explains with a shrug. “I may have been the only thing you accepted, even subconsciously. Maybe because I tangibly exist in front of you.”

Seto looks satisfied with that answer. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

After the door closes, and his footsteps fade away, Isis sighs softly and wonders when she’ll stop helping everyone else and finally start working on herself.

~

Seto Kaiba offers to drop Isis Ishtar off at the airport for her flight back to Egypt.

She’d emailed him at the end of the week with her flight details, to say goodbye. It had been a short but polite email. Friendly, like nothing had ever transpired between them. Clinical. But it didn’t sit well with him, just letting her leave.

The car ride is quiet, but not in the awkward, tense way it had been before. Seto spends most of it watching her smile at her mobile, no doubt texting her brothers. He notices all the times her hands reach up to her collarbone, where her Tauk had been, only to fall on nothing. Sometimes she tells him what Malik and Rishid are saying, sometimes she’s silent as she stares out the window.

Seto helps her take the luggage out of the car and walks in with her, joining her in the long check-in line. They maintain a respectable distance as they wait. People stare at him, whisper about who he’s with, but he’s not bothered. Isis seems unaffected, more concerned with whether her suitcases are under the weight limit.

The attendant stares at him when they make it to the counter, addressing him instead of her. This time, rather than letting him take over, Isis speaks up.

“Thank you for escorting me, Seto,” she says as they make their way further into the airport. “You didn’t need to.”

“I owe you,” he says. “For the help.”

She adjusts her carry-on bag over her shoulder. “I’m glad things are working out for you.”

Somehow, she doesn’t sound bitter. Maybe she’s just being friendly after a week of letting her anger deflate.

“If you need anything--”

“I don’t,” Isis assures him. “And it’s not that your help isn’t appreciated, it’s just that I think this is something I have to learn how to live with on my own. There’s no cure for anxiety, just healthier coping methods. You, unfortunately, aren’t one of them.”

“Unfortunately?”

“It was pleasurable,” she says, with a straight face. “I’ll miss it, a little.”

Seto, on the other hand, feels his face heat up. “What?”

Isis laughs, a real laugh that turns him even redder. “I’ll see you again, one day,” she says as they arrive at the security checkpoint. “Goodbye, Seto.”

Before she can turn around and leave, before he can think about consequences and PR and all of the media outlets that will swarm this moment, Seto kisses her. When he pulls away, Isis smiles.

“I’ll miss you too,” she says.

And then Isis Ishtar is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> malik freaks out when he sees the paparazzi photos and instead of saying hello or any proper greeting when isis gets off the plane, he questions her incessantly over kaiba and what the fuck isis WHAT THE FUCK
> 
> mokuba sees the tabloids, grins, and pats his brother on the back during dinner with no further questions or explanation. seto is still mildly in the middle of an internal panic
> 
> isis thinks she'll plan another trip to japan sooner than she thought, perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> tfw when you've been meaning to write for this ship for a decade and u finally do it thanks venus
> 
> follow me on twitter, maybe? i'm [@piperEXE](https://twitter.com/piperEXE) :3


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